Thursday, March 22, 2007

when life hands you tickets

there were little stars around the edge of the box, and in pencil overlined with pen, it read: THE EVAN AND JARON CONCERT IS TODAY. then, in smaller, bluer letters: please go. you bought a ticket.

it was such a pitiful little note it almost made me feel bad for myself.

but let's back up, lest i leave you with the impression that i am a major fan of evan and jaron. my main connection to evan and jaron is that back in the day when they had a song on the radio - which for the life of me i can't remember, except i think it had a line about a window in it somewhere - there was a family myth passed down by my grandmother that my aunt had once dated one of them. "they were famous and handsome and did your aunt care? no! she is crazy, your aunt." something of that nature. also, i think my dad used to talk about being in their van...but perhaps that was a different band.

no, the reason i wanted to go was because i realized somewhere along the line tt the semester is drawing to a close, and i have not done a single extracurricular thing since winter break. my week is pretty straightforward. i go to work. i go to school. i stay in the computer lab till sunrise writing features and tweaking computer design projects. and, when life is good and american idol is having an off night, i do aerobics.

when i really want to go nuts, i contemplate crocheting.

so the other day i received a mass e-mail about how yu is arranging an evan and jaron concert to raise money for something, and i determinedly set aside the money to buy myself a ticket, foolishly thinking that once i had bought the ticket, i would make the time for it. this way, i told myself, i will have a night just to be a teenager and hang out with my friends and let them know i still appreciate them even if i never do more than nod enthusiastically at them from across the street. i will take part in a social scene and make new friends and blah blah blah. i mean, it worked at my freshman orientation, right?

last year i was all over the place, i thought to myself, trying to remember my password to the computer lab. i had the radio show, and i went to speeches, and i went out to movies and pizza with people, and we would all go on lengthy and random explorations of the city - although they usually ended up by a park or a river, because those things are cool and free. free was definitely a requirement, even last year, but somehow i ended up having many interesting adventures. whereas now, when one of my classes cancels and i find myself with a two hour gap, i go back to my room and sleep it all away.

it bothered me that i did this. and i thought the concert would be easy. i love music, and i haven't been to a live performance in a long time. as a compromise, i told myself i could take the crochet.

but the concert started fifteen minutes ago, and i am not there.

it was very warm today in new york - sixty-five degrees. i worked for most of the day, went to two classes that blurred together, and started to walk home from school. just that walk in between the buildings made me realize that i hadn't been outside in the daylight on a weekday for weeks either. even as that thought ocurred to me, in the back of my head, a little voice was ordering the night ahead into half-hour segments, scheduling when i would write which paper and when i would exercise and what time my roommates would come back and...

and i walked right past my dorm, and kept walking.

at first i walked very quickly, because there were people all around me closing me in, and it was warm enough not to wear a heavy coat, so without all that bulk i felt as light as a rocket - like i could walk faster than a car. but as block after block went by, my pace slowed. people waiting at traffic lights with me grew clearer, their features sharper. i saw a rock band with their guitars on their back and faded red t-shirts arguing about subway fares. i saw a man pushing triplets with pink-pill fuzzy hats in a stroller. i saw an exhausted businessman trudging up the sloped side of first avenue, carrying his suit jacket over one shoulder and his briefcase over the other, with startling dark blue eyes.

and then i wondered, you know, if they were colored contacts.

i started looking up at the buildings around me, and at the sky, which was actually still light, though it clogged up by oily-looking clouds. the skyscrapers are all drastically different. the un is made from blue-green glass, it's algae colored; the trump building is all black, straight and sleek as an attena. crowds of diplomats scattered along the weird cobble-stoned pavement like flocks of crows, but then when i looked for them, i saw that there weren't any crows. just pidgeons. lots and lots of over aggressive pidgeons.

i found myself by the river, watching what the people in queens were doing on the other shore; screaming at taxis, a barge full of - i could almost swear - pampers, gliding along with the current. by then it was already dusk, and there were all these lights like little sequins glinting out from across the river and over the bridge. all different colors: red, purple, blue, green. white, in the high-rises. whenever i look at that river i start thinking about george washington, even though i'm pretty sure he didn't conquer jersey that way. the famous painting of him in the boat - that's the potomac, right? it was so hard to step around all the dog poop and trash on the cement of the riverwalk, i began to seriously wonder if i, too, could set off to conquer jersey. for some reason i felt like it must be cleaner there.

but as i was standing there, looking out at the river, what was probably queens, and all the little lights and bridges and skyscrapers stretching over the horizon, i realized that i was never going to make it back for the evan and jaron concert. i looked down into the river and i saw my reflection: my cheeks and nose were a violent red, my hair had frizzed so much from walking in the damp that it looked like i had spiderwebs clinging to my head, and my chapped lips were pale and bleeding a little. my skirt had gotten twisted and wrinkled while i was walking, and my shirt looked very weary. i thought about the kinds of girls who were going to the concert, what they would look like. i thought about what i would look like next to them. it's no wonder i always look wrong in pictures.

and then this sentence popped into my head:

i'd rather be alone.

what i really wanted, looking down at that beautiful river and the beautiful, rainy sunset above it, was for everybody else in the world to be gone so i could enjoy it in peace. i didn't want to worry what i looked like, though i knew that even by new york's widened standards, i was approaching the 'old crone' zone with dangerous alacrity. i didn't want to think about my homework or my projects or even my friends. maybe i just wanted to be invisible. it didn't bother me, the other people leaning over the railing and talking loudly on their cell phones, because somehow, out there, with all that sky over my head, it didn't seem like anything a person said could be that loud. but i didn't want anyone to see me. i wanted to watch everyone and everything without it watching back.

a friend told me once that i must be made of water because i always drag her out to fountains and rivers. water's always by itself; it's always at a distance. i started to wonder if she was right. then all of a sudden there was a single bolt of thunder and it started to pour.

that, i thought grimly, clinches it.

at first i fell back on default, scampering along as quickly as i could, cursing myself for not bringing a coat, for choosing to walk in the one section of new york where there is no cover, for trusting our ambivalent weather for even an hour. gradually, however, i realized it was not that bad. yeah, it was raining. so what? it was still warm. i found an exit to the street and started wandering the avenues, looking for a subway, but not looking that hard. i'd gone a long way, and i hadn't seen this section of the city in a long time. there were new stores. new hipsters bumming out in front of the barnes and nobles. new fountains, even. later, as i was waiting for my train to come, i heard the two guys in front of me joking - tanned so brown they looked orange, decked out in chic t-shirts and sweatshirts and jeans - and i realized, to my alarm, that a) they were speaking in hebrew and b) i understood them.

they cracked each other up about how lame new york was, they worried that they'd never figure out where to transfer, they commiserated about their condescending american hosts. i stood right behind them and, silently, i answered them, surprised by the words forming sentences in my head. 'we're going to end up in brooklyn,' one of them noted ruefully. 'what does he mean, take the c to the l?' i wanted to tell them in hebrew, but i was too embarassed. so i waited for the train, listening and smiling to myself.

a couple minutes before some irish guy in a newsboy cap propped his guitar case open by a subway bench, took out a capo, and started singing some kind of country-blues. he was young, maybe younger than me, but the tunnels made his voice carry and he was playing open chords (i think that's what they're called) that sounded almost perfectly in the echoey space- good acoustics, my mom would approve. and he wasn't afraid of us. he had a decent voice and a simple, catchy song. by the time the train had come people were gathering around him, clapping off beat and nodding cautiously. even i had taken off my headphones.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Tell-Tale Sign #94 That You Are In College

a note in orange crayon on your bathroom mirror actually reads:

ATTENTION FAIR CITIZENS OF 15 B:

PLEASE BE ADVISEDroomate a and roomate b, having taken out the bathroom garbage every week since the beginning of the semester, are currently on strike and thus will not be available to take out the bathroom garbage this friday. as roomate c's hand is broken, the mission therefore falls to roommates d and e. contribute, for king and country!

Friday, March 16, 2007

evidently

i have not lived up to my word. perhaps this is because i am exhausted already. there are still almost two weeks left. does that seem fair to you?nevertheless, guilt-stricken and snowbound, i will share one more tidbit with you. prepare to be dazzled.You Know You Are In College when you take your frustrations out on breakfast cereal. allow me to demonstrate.(holding box of cookie crisp in one hand) stupid housing department! why can't they give me a single? (violent crunch) grrrr, how much longer can the room across the hall blare that stupid crunk music? (more crunching, faster) when will someone else decide to take out the garbage? (bite tongue) how can i lose weight if i keep eating cereal for revenge? (furious crunch) stupid school cafeteria...closing at noon....(puts cereal box down, glares out window)stupid snow!(commence sign number five that You Are In College, aka Trying To Correctly Interpret Instructions on Toilet Cleaning Agent)

evidently

i have not lived up to my word. perhaps this is because i am exhausted already. there are still almost two weeks left. does that seem fair to you?nevertheless, guilt-stricken and snowbound, i will share one more tidbit with you. prepare to be dazzled.You Know You Are In College when you take your frustrations out on breakfast cereal. allow me to demonstrate.(holding box of cookie crisp in one hand) stupid housing department! why can't they give me a single? (violent crunch) grrrr, how much longer can the room across the hall blare that stupid crunk music? (more crunching, faster) when will someone else decide to take out the garbage? (bite tongue) how can i lose weight if i keep eating cereal for revenge? (furious crunch) stupid school cafeteria...closing at noon....(puts cereal box down, glares out window)stupid snow!(commence sign number five that You Are In College, aka Trying To Correctly Interpret Instructions on Toilet Cleaning Agent)

Monday, March 12, 2007

tell-tale sign #3 that you are in college

you sort your laundry not by lights or darks, nor even by durability, but by State of Emergency. for instance:"well, the towel hasn't been washed for six weeks...but then again, the sheets haven't been washed for eight weeks...and then there's the shirt that got washed two weeks ago that has bloodstains..."------> daily bonus (!!!) you take pictures such as the one below for your mother:

Sunday, March 11, 2007

tell-tale sign #2 that you are in college

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Ye Olde Student Almanac: Tell-Tale Signs That You Are In College

in honor of there only being two and a half more weeks until perel gets to go home, the author of this blog will endeavor to commemorate each of the remaining days with a passage from Ye Olde Student Almanac (2007 edition; available for a limited time only in the off-campus student life building, through the underground tunnel and up 14 flights of stairs, behind the israeli tourist bureau office. contact this rarely-checked voicemail box for more information.)

without further ado, more tales of crime and treason on the high seas presents:

Tell-Tale Signs That You Are In College

Sign #1.

You sit down to a dinner of Rice Chex and duck sauce, and your first thought is: again?

Saturday, March 03, 2007

i love my grandmother, purim edition

(enter car, stage right. car weaves casually across several lanes of traffic, then proceeds to zoom towards a bus shelter. the two occupants, an older woman in a light dress and a girl with a gargantuan backpack, several plastic bags filled with american cheese, and a bizarre sweater, are having an argument.) girl: so you think this is the bus stop?

grandmother: how should i know. they move that bus stop everytime i come here. the new one's supposed to be on the corner, but i'm not going to that one. i'm not stupid.

girl: (sighs)

grandmother: what kind of bus company moves the stop every week?

girl: well, luckily we are forty-five minutes early.

grandmother: listen, let me tell you something, you never know with these bus drivers. sometimes they come twenty minutes early and sometimes they're a half hour late! i don't believe in taking chances.

grandmother: i don't care, you need to bring a coat when you go places! now you keep that sweater, you'll need it for the walk back from the bus stop.

girl: i'm not cold!

grandmother: oh, just wear the sweater.

(fifteen minutes go by. man wearing a streimel, gartel, etc appears on the corner of the block and starts to walk very quickly for the other end. he is clearly in a hurry.)

grandmother: perel, roll down your window and ask that chassidishuh guy if this is where the bus stops.

girl: um....you think he'll talk to me?

grandmother: of course he'll talk to you! roll down your window!

girl: i don't think they--

grandmother: you want me to ask him?

girl (hastily): no.

grandmother: so stop fussing.

girl (rolling down window): excuse me, sir, is this where the bus to manhattan stops?

chassidishuh guy: manhattan?

girl: yeah.

cg: why you should want to go to manhattan? it's purim.

girl: well--

grandmother (leaning over girl) : listen, she's not asking you why she should go to manhattan, she's just asking you where it stops, ok?

cg: nobody is going to manhattan.

grandmother: well she is.

cg: i don' t know if there's a bus.

grandmother: there is, we heard it on the voice recording.

cg: i don't know why.

grandmother: this isn't an argument. does the bus stop here, yes or no?

the chassidishuh guy shrugs.

grandmother: ok, freilichin purim.

exit chassidishuh guy. grandmother: he was trying to argue with me! did you hear that?

girl: well...yes...

grandmother (unexpectedly): who would have guessed i'd have a pathmark card on my key chain!

girl: huh?

grandmother: i'll bet you nobody would have guessed that one. oh, i see a bus coming. perel, get out and stand by the corner so he can see you. i'll move ahead into his parking space so i can block him.

girl: they don't like it when you do that.

grandmother: get out of the car, you'll miss him! listen, i know what i'm doing.

girl: i guess it's inevitable.

(girl gets out and drags luggage to end of the block. the bus pulls up directly behind the car, bypassing her entirely, and proceeds to honk loudly. grandmother rolls down the window.the bus opens the doors, but motions that the girl should stay outside.) driver: i'm not letting her on the bus until you move!

grandmother: well i'm not moving until you let her on the bus.

driver: you can't do that!

grandmother: oh, let her get on already. she's standing two inches from the door. i'm pulling out right now. perel, ask him if he's going to manhattan. make sure you ask him!

girl: ok, bubbe cissy. have a safe flight back to milwaukee.

bubbe cissy: and don't forget to put all that american cheese in the refrigerator! and take the money out of your shoe!